If a Butterfly Flaps its Wings
by LightsPast
Summary: Written for The Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition round 9 - The Butterfly Effect: "If a butterfly flaps its wings in Brazil, does it set off a tornado in Texas?" Little things can have big consequences. So what about big things? What if Harry Potter had died that day in the Forbidden Forest at the Battle of Hogwarts?


**Written for the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition, Round Nine**

**Team: Montrose Magpies**

**Position: Chaser 3**

**Challenge: What if Harry Potter had died in the forest at the end of DH?**

**Prompts: Glory, Uncovered, Birthday**

**Words: 2, 485**

**A/N: I would like to mention, the scenes are NOT in chronological order (which should hopefully become obvious), and I have not immediately specified who each POV is (but that should also become obvious)**

"The boy … is he dead?"

The entire clearing is deathly silent, still. Almost afraid to approach the broken body of the young boy lying before us, the pale form splayed unmoving in among the leaves.

"You," this time the silky voice is directed at me alone, and the small jinx catches me unawares. A cry of pain managing to slip out from between my lips, unbidden, and I stumble forward.

Now all the eyes are piercing my skin, like needles and they jab impatiently, nervously, hopefully, though I know not whether their hopes echo mine or that of my oldest sister, the anticipation shining through her crazed eyes.

I kneel slowly, gently touch the pale face, feel for a pulse, hand over heart. My hair sweeps forwards, brushing his cold cheek, but the boy doesn't even twitch. A chest devoid of the beating of life, a mouth open but taking in no air.

He is undeniably, irreversibly dead.

Dead.

He is dead.

My last hope.

Our last hope.

Dead.

I clench my jaw, not allowing the pained noise like that of an animal that lurks in my throat to pass my lips.

Now I will never be able to save my son.

I take in a deep breath, schooling my features. No anguish, not even the slightest sign of upset must show. Being dead will do me no good, nor my son.

_My Draco. _For a second, the peaceful face of the boy in front of me fades and blurs into that of my son and for a single mad second, I begin to wonder, in the end what is the difference between them?

I stand, turn. Pull myself straight and tall, never betraying the emotions beneath the surface.

"He is dead!" I call to the watchers, those waiting.

And they cheer and shout, their triumph wild and feral, stamping their feet into the dirt, throwing back their heads. Bursts, explosions of red and silver light shoot into the air, over it all Bella's mad, victorious laugh soars, shrill and ugly.

And all I can do is stare at this startlingly small boy lying alone and try to hide the crushing sorrow that has suddenly taken up residence in my heart.

o-o-o-o-o

In this tiny dark space, I cannot stop thinking about him.

His laugh, his smile, the sight of him on a broomstick, so free and oblivious, the warmth of his body when he held me. His kisses. The long conversations we would have, while wandering the grounds on sunny afternoons. The way his hair stuck up every-which-way, the way his fringe fell into his eyes.

And his eyes. _Oh god, _his eyes, so green and so vivid. So _alive. _

I can almost convince myself he is alive still, and that is what keeps _me _alive in the hell that is every day.

I suppose I rebelled, fought back, one too many times. That and my blood-traitor status, together led me to this cell where all there is to do is sit and think.

I think of how I waited for him, and then he had barely returned when they killed him. When _Voldemort_ killed him.

I was angry, so _furious_. I wanted to fight and destroy and kill and it scared me, just a little. I wanted to avenge him. But after a few dozen cruciatus's, I began to lose hope. And when the anger bled away, it left behind a hollow shell where love once was.

In this small unlit room, I hold onto his memory. Our last kiss, so long ago, on his seventeenth, and last, birthday. A small golden spark, in the darkness that cloaks me.

I want to scream at the unjustness of the world, that such a wonderful person was taken from us. He didn't deserve it, to be taken so young. If there's anyone in the entire world who didn't deserve it, it was him.

And sometimes, sometimes I want to scream at Harry, for going away and leaving us in this mess.

And then I hate myself for it.

And then I scream anyway, at his murderer, because even if Harry's gone, I will never stop fighting.

He was my idol, my friend, my general, my lover.

And I will never let his loss crush me, because he wouldn't have wanted that.

I will never stop fighting.

o-o-o-o-o

I once thought there was glory in dying in battle, sacrificing your life to fight for what you believed in. A true Gryffindor through and through, that was me.

But that was before I really did fight in a war. Before I lost my brother and my school mates and my teachers and my best friend.

And then suddenly it wasn't quite so glorious after all.

Suddenly Harry was dead and the whole world went insane.

There was barely time to grieve, barely time to even register the tragedy before You Know W- no, before _Voldemort_ cemented his place in power, and everything changed.

They took Hermione away and I never saw her again. Ginny was distraught, reckless, and they took her away too. _For her own good_, they said. I haven't seen her since that day, either. I'm scared about what is happening to them. Terrified that a single gesture of defiance on my part could be the end of them.

I never was as brave as Harry.

Harry haunts my dreams, at night and all day.

I wonder why, why he left. I thought he knew what he was doing. Didn't he have a plan? These thoughts spiral through my mind, angry and resentful, poisonous.

It hurts too much to grieve now. When the wound was fresh I should have but there was no time, and now it has healed crooked and wrong, raw flesh stinging at the slightest touch.

So instead, I am angry. I know how much Harry hated it when I was angry at him for stupid reasons, but I can't help it. I can't stop the darkness that engulfs my thoughts, my mind.

He was our hope, our light, and now he has been extinguished like a birthday candle. The Death Eaters whisper threats and taunts, they know we can't fight back anymore. Look what happened to Neville, after all_. Oh Merlin, Neville._

The remaining students are like ghosts, pale and timid. Afraid.

The halls of Hogwarts seem so empty, now. It is silent, an oppressive silence, thicker and heavier than a silence has any right to be. No one laughs. I cannot remember the last time I heard a laugh that wasn't Bellatrix's unhinged cackle.

And memories of the dead linger in every corner, every corridor, every classroom, and in my mind I plan great rebellions and battles but in the real world I am just another conquered, crushed victim who Harry left behind.

o-o-o-o-o

It took five of them to disarm and restrain me. I suppose I can be proud of that, at least.

After Harry died, they killed Professor McGonagall. The sight of her lifeless body was just as sickening, if not more, than that of my friend. I suppose she was too close to Dumbledore, too powerful, too much of a risk for them to leave her be this time.

I am worried about who will protect the Gryffindors now, especially those poor eleven and twelve year olds, so frightened and young. Merlin knows Voldemort hates Gryffindors.

I probably shouldn't be thinking about other people right now. I should probably be worrying about myself. After all, I'm wandless and defenceless, chained to a group of other muggleborns, including Dean. We have survived the battle only to be rounded up for slaughter. And now I am back in Malfoy Manor, a place I never thought I would end up ever again, and my memories haunt me.

But this time there are no Harry and Ron waiting just around the corner, no Dobby the House Elf on the chandelier.

No one to save me.

I think of my parents, safe in Australia. They don't remember their daughter, but that's for the best. After all, if you don't remember someone, you will never have to mourn them. They will never have to grieve for their teenage daughter; never have to curse the day awitch _knock-knocked_ on the front door.

A Death Eater I only vaguely recognise enters the room, wand in hand, cruel smirk on his face.

He speaks, taunting, but I refuse to listen. I will not let my last seconds be filled with his rubbish.

The wand is levelled at a boy barely of age, the Death Eater's mouth moves and even though I do not hear there is no mistaking the green light that hits his chest.

_Thump_. Body hits the ground. Dead.

The wand swivels.

Green light. _Thump_. Another body. Another life wasted.

Dean's face is pale as the wand point turns to rest on him. I see his lips move silently - a prayer? - and he is trembling, barely. Even though I hardly knew him I stretch out as far as the chains allow me and take his hand. His gives it a terrified, thankful squeeze.

And then the green light hits him and his hand spasms in mine for half a second, then it is still and he falls, ripped from my comforting grasp.

I am shaking now. I am only eighteen. I am not ready to die. Where is that Gryffindor courage now?

I think of what the sorting hat said to me. '_The one main trait that sets you apart from a Ravenclaw is your courage. You are brave in the face of adventure and danger. I do believe you'd make a fine Gryffindor, Miss Granger.'_

I remember something Harry once told me, something Dumbledore once told him in turn.

_"To the well organised mind, death is but the next great adventure …"_

_'You are brave in the face of adventure …'_

I choke back a sob.

Time to be brave.

When the green light flashes towards me, I am ready, chin up, head held high.

_See you soon, Harry_.

And then - oblivion.

o-o-o-o-o

They burnt down Gryffindor Tower. I suppose that was the last straw

_There's no need for this tower anymore,_ they laughed. _There's only one house now._

It awoke a ferocity in me that I never knew existed. Sure, it was true that I had never truly felt comfortable in Gryffindor tower. As nice as they had been, I had never been particularly close to any of my dorm-mates, nor any other Gryffindors. But Gryffindor Tower was my home, had been for almost seven years now.

And seeing it blaze, up in flames, broke something inside me. I uncovered a side of myself I had only glimpsed before, in the moments after seeing the corpses of Fred, Professor Lupin, Tonks, Colin Creevey, Lavender, after witnessing the murder of Professor McGonagall, after seeing Harry's dead body, thrown at Voldemort's feet like a worthless rag doll.

I lost my head for just a split second, and that tiny hatred filled moment was enough for me to send an _Avada Kedavra_ straight at Bellatrix Lestrange.

I don't know what I was thinking. Scratch that, I wasn't thinking at all. I just _was_, all action and impulse for once, not fumbling and hesitation.

And for a few insane seconds, I thought the curse would hit home.

But Bellatrix wasn't called the Dark Lord's best lieutenant for nothing. She spun, brandishing her wand, created a faceted shield that could have almost been beautiful if not for the madwoman behind it.

She shrieked in both anger and ecstasy at the challenge. At the challenger.

"What's this?" she drawled, her voice a grotesque mockery of a young child's. "Does little baby Longbottom want to play? Is he_ angry?_"

"Go to hell, you bitch!"

Her eyes lit with a manic fire. Throwing back her head, she laughed loudly. "I think that's a yes! Let's _dance_!"

On her last word she slashed her wand, sending jets of colour towards me. I reacted with pure instinct, the training hammered into my head by Harry in fifth year just barely managing to save me.

"Ah, ah, ah!" She chided in delight. "Not quite as good as your parents, are you little baby?"

It was the mention of my parents that did it.

"CRUCIO!" We screamed it at the same time, but my spell blasted hers away. She writhed in agony, screaming, primal. The sound pierced my mind, shattering, and the spell ended, dropping her.

Other Death Eaters ran forward to assist her, but her spell flung them back. "Stay back!" She shrieked. "He's_ mine!_"

She dragged herself to her feet, an unhinged giggle escaping her lips.

"This _has_ been fun, but I'm bored now," She announced. She flicked her wand lazily. "Crucio."

And the world split apart and became pure pain.

o-o-o-o-o

How can it be that the person whom you once hated most is the person whose death you most regret?

You spend years plotting someone's downfall, hating the very ground they walk on, and then suddenly they save your life -_ twice_ - and then they're dead.

It was shocking, a slap in the face from reality.

Maybe, just maybe, we could have been friends. If that day on the train I hadn't been so damn proud. _If I hadn't been so much of my father's son_. My father, the man who I once admired, feared, tried to emulate. Now, I see him for what he really is - weak and pathetic. A stupid, proud man whose foolish decision to blindly follow an equally stupid and proud Dark Lord has been the ruin of this family.

Of course, I would never say that to his face. I always was a coward.

And now that Harry Potter is dead, I shall live the rest of my life in fear.

Fear of death, fear of torture, fear of failure. Fear of the Dark Lord.

My father has fallen from grace, my mother was never marked and I am merely a weak child.

The Malfoys are very, very disposable, and he will never let us forget it.

So I find myself forced to serve, to fulfil his every whim, to torture and wound and kill on his word. It is horrific. I can find no other words to describe my life.

I have become the thing which, as a child, I dreamt of. Dreams of glory and power, serving a powerful Dark Lord. He would vanquish all my enemies, and so I would serve him so I could do the same to his.

But naïve illusions are always stripped away harshly, and I have discovered that this even death is better than this life.

And so I lay awake at night and regret.

I wonder how things could have been different if only that little boy had reached out to shake my hand.

o-o-o-o-o

**Wow, that's my longest entry so far!**

**Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed it. Please leave your thoughts in a review, I love to hear your opinion! :) **


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